Taste of Defeat
by Avatar of Insanity
Summary: The title really doesn't reflect to the story much, but blah. This is yet another VeelaDraco and Harry piece though with my own twists, I think. Though there is nothing M yet, there will be eventually. I think that covers all there is at this time.


A few words are needed here, I feel, to illuminate the truth. I've been reading Fan Fiction for quite some time, though I've never before attempted to write one. Anyway, I've been sitting on this idea for two or three years. It was about that long ago that I read a Harry x Veela Draco fic. I thought the basic ideas were sound and did not clash with the world J.K. Rowling had built. Then, life happened, and I abandoned my old haunts. Now, several years later, I return to reading Fanfic to find that the Veela scenario has become a cliché to some. I also found that several facts seem to have worked their way into becoming, for fans of those works, official. This story is also such a story, though it, like all the others, has a few twists along the way. I hope that I do not insult anyone, but I am sure to do so. You cannot please everyone, after all. Anyways, this introduction has become too long. This is, as stated earlier, going to eventually, after some exposition, develop into a HarryxVeelaDraco fic, or a VeelaDracoxHarry fic. I'm not quite certain yet. Don't be afraid to prod at me if I get distracted with meaningless detail and fail to advance the plot, for that is one of my flaws. That said, don't read this story if the views within bother you. I'm not forcing you to, after all. One can always cancel out of the page, throw their computer out a window, and cut off all communication with the outside world rather than read this, after all. This is rated as high as I could, for it will eventually earn that grade. Not now, mind you, but later, several chapters down the road. I've never published a story on any site before, so excuse failings in the writings. I think I've covered all I meant to say here, but if I haven't, I apologize profusely and ask forgiveness.

This entire work could be seen as an extended metaphor for life, if viewed in the right light. Please take no offense.

Oh, and I also apologize for the shortness of chapters; I am not yet used to writing fiction.

Oh, and for clarification, I am fairly certain we join the story during the summer after the death of Harry's Godfather. I try to stay consistent, but may fail. If I do, tell me so I can fix the discrepancy. Rest assured, however, that though this will comply as best I am able with earlier novels, the plots of the later ones may be ignored in all or in part. This is, after all, Fanfiction.

::::::::DISCLAIMER::::::::  
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the related details. J.K. Rowling does. Also, this story is not for profit or commercial use. :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

And so, the story commences...

"Crucio!"

A cloaked figure gestured at a young man chained to a brick wall, who arched his back against the wall in pain.

"You dare to come back with empty hands and expect me to understand why you have not acquired what I asked?"

The shrouded figure gestured again, and again the boy writhed, platinum hair flying around and limbs twisting in anguish.

"You have failed me, Draco. I do not care _why, _only that you did. Your father thought you were ready to join us, yet you have failed the most basic of tasks."

"But... my lord... please..."

"No, Draco. You... failed me. For that, I should kill you." Draco drew away at this, as far as the bonds allowed.

"But no, I shall not do so yet. I can show mercy."

Draco stared, wide eyed.

"But for your failure, and the failure of your father who thought you ready, I will take away that which you hold so dear."

Draco hissed inwardly in fear and apprehension at these ominous words.

"Yes... I think I shall do just that. Wormtail?"

A sniveling man appeared out of the darkness. "Yes master?"

"Bring me the potion."

"Yes, my lord." Bowing, the man called Wormtail backed away, into the shadows. He returned a few minutes later, carrying a silvery potion which gleamed in its stoppered flask. He held it out towards his master, who took it up and examined it in what little light there was. It seemed to Draco that the Dark Lord stared at the potion for a fraction of a second too long. He thought he could almost see a faint frown.

"This was not the potion I wanted, Wormtail."

Wormtail flinched back, afraid of the punishment. The Dark Lord contemplated the issue for a minute longer. He'd had this potion brewed up almost seventeen years ago, to deal with an errant Death Eater. Luckily for the hapless minion, a Ministry raid the day before the potion was complete had robbed the Dark Lord of his revenge. The Dark Lord smiled mirthlessly at these recollections, and decided that this potion had been waiting long enough.

"But, it shall do nicely. You may go."

The little man scurried off, relieved at his reprieve. The Dark Lord held up the potion where Draco could see it. The liquid was casting an eldritch glow around the room as it gently sloshed around, allowing Draco to see a little more of the dungeon he was chained in. His eyes wandered, taking in the familiar brickwork, before snapping back at the sound of the Dark Lord's voice.

"Do you know what this is, little Malfoy?"

The blond shrunk back, but did not answer.

"It is a draft of Veelai Mutatio. Surely you have heard of that?" Draco only shook his head mutely. "That's what you get for going to that daft old fool's school. However, I'm sure your father has heard of it. I'm certain that he could tell you of its... interesting effects." The Dark Lord's voice suddenly went hard. "He failed me when you failed me, and for incompetence here is your prize." The Dark Lord uncorked the potion, which promptly started to bubble. As the Dark Lord moved the potion closer to Draco, the scent of cinnamon threatened to overwhelm him. Draco froze with fright, fixated on the roiling liquid. As the Dark Lord approached ever closer with the open container, Draco started flailing wildly, trying to escape but knowing he couldn't. The Dark Lord seemed amused at his helpless thrashing. "Oh no, we can't have that now, can we? It would take all the fun out of it. Be a good boy and stop trying to resist." When Draco did not comply, the Dark Lord lost the humor he had previously been expressing. "Pity. You could have accepted this and shown yourself to be worthy. Instead, you put on this pitiful display." He gestured vaguely at the struggling Malfoy. _Stupefy_, he thought without effort.

The flailing stopped.

"There, much better. We wouldn't want you to get hurt now, would We?"

The Dark Lord placed the flask in front of Draco, and tipped it forwards ever so slightly.

He started to laugh as the potion passed between Draco's lips.

The silver potion poured out of its flask down into the gut, where it sunk into the internal organs and spread. Silvery cords of thin liquid pierced cell walls, the magic wrapping wrapping around and sinking in, warping the life it touched. Heat blossomed in Draco's gut as the potion battled against the body's natural resistance to change. A tingling sensation spread as more liquid was dumped in, and Draco's entire body started to ache. As the flow slowed a low discomfort became apparent as Draco's body fought a losing battle to stem the tides of change. Finally, the stream of liquid ceased, the container exhausted. A few final drops fell into Draco's mouth as the Dark Lord removed the flask.

Despite being stunned, Draco was moving, thrashing about as the potion worked its magic. The warmth became fire, the ache a burning pain that enveloped his limbs and torso. He screamed in agony as natural bonds were severed, replaced unnaturally. The scream cut off as a glowing tide overflowed into his mouth, only to resume as it was absorbed back into the body. His body jerked against his bonds as the true effects began. Draco lurched back once more, only to fall unconscious as the pain overtook him completely. Sparks started to crawl out of his hair as his body involuntarily twisted, caught in the throes of magic.

Satisfied at what he saw before him, the Dark Lord continued his malevolent laugh as he left the chamber, leaving the twitching male behind in the gloom. The metal door shut behind him with a resounding _clang_, and once more Draco was left in the darkness.

If someone were listening, they would have heard the Dark Lord converse with another. They would have heard the way he casually mentioned the other could have his son back, that the punishment was done. They would have noted the threat implicit in the phrasing: don't fail me again, I won't be so leniant next time. Then, they would have heard as the Dark Lord stalked off, leaving the other alone in the grim halls.


End file.
